Category Archives: Skull

Skull of the day

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BEATEN BACK TO PURE, The Burning South  (2004, This Dark Reign Recordings)

The skull:
Pretty boring cover motif, but exactly what you would expect from a band playing “Southern Sludge/Doom Metal,” which is what Metal Archives says is this band’s modus operandi. Here we have a sketched skull with crossbones laid over a backdrop of ivy and a rebel flag. Zakk Wylde and Jimmy Bower would be proud.

The music:
I expected this to sound like Black Label Society meets Eyehategod, but it’s not like that (thankfully). The rock/metal is of an older school, like maybe early heavy Kiss or Scorpions, and the doom is more traditional, maybe Count Raven or Saint Vitus, and its  melodic sensibility is something more akin to various European metal bands than anything “Southern.” The sludge element comes, apparently, from the propensity of slower tempos and maybe the vocals, but it’s got a more buoyant feel than the “sludge” tag suggests — and it’s not all that de-tuned, either. The music, especially on something like “Where the Sewer Meets the Sea,” is craftily written, with good performances, a cogent and compelling musical story told through thoughtful arrangements, and a diversity of melodic choices and some fairly okay riffs. But it all sinks to a heap of crud when the vocalist opens his mouth. He’s throaty and gruff, yet mixed so far back and so inconsequential it sounds like they took their sweet-ass time recording all the music first, only to be left with one single hour of remaining studio time to track the vocals. They sound that rushed and are that unimaginative. Too bad, because musically this was quite a surprise, and they have something decent to offer.
— Friar Wagner

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KHROPHUS, Presages (2009, Fonomídia)

The skull:
Grimy and no doubt freshly disinterred, this is a proper grave skull. Dark background, deep shadows, not a tooth in sight: you know you’re in for some death metal. I mean, it presages you listening to some death metal. The skull’s all, “I foresee you listening to some death metal in the near future,” and you’re like, “Yeah, yeah, Nostradamus,” so he says, “Consider it presaged,” and you think, “This fucking guy…”

The music:
Like Cannibal Corpse minus (most of) the stupidity, Khrophus play meat and potatoes modern death metal without any fuss. Featuring lots of squealies, lots of minor third trills, and all the arbitrary riff changes you can stomach, Khrophus are nevertheless a fairly restrained example of the form, and that (relative) tastefulness is probably holding them back in the scene. Or not, I don’t know. Maybe all the kids these days love Khrophus. Maybe “Khrophus, Khrophus, Khrophus” is all you hear coming out of the Brazilian equivalent of Hot Topic. I can say at least that I’d rather listen to this than Krisiun, but I absolutely don’t ever want to listen to Krisiun. So: Khrophus. Better than two bands I can’t stand. Enjoy?
— Friar Johnsen

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ARDKORE, Napalm Stix to Kidz!!  (1989, Metalworks)

The skull:
Looking like it was ripped straight from the back cover of a fourth-grader’s notebook, this
image piles on the cliches: a skull, a fallout shelter/radiation symbol, and the anarchy “A” scratched into his forehead. The skull tries hard to look ferocious, but no dice. The band logo and especially album title font almost make it look like a Screeching Weasel album. They do have punk leanings, so there you go. What’s with the detached bottom jaw and the thin two-pronged tongue? Man…how long till we get to Skull 666?

The music:
Mindless and pointless, if perfectly competent, this band, like so many British thrashers
offered too little too late. So it is with this album, a bland pile of crossover thrash. 16 songs, 36 minutes, titles like “Kill the Lollipop Lady,” “No Fear” and “Judge of Death.” Yawwwwn. File it away with Cerebral Fix, D.A.M. and Virus and move right along. Nothing to see (or hear) here…
–Friar Wagner

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SODOM, Obsessed by Cruelty (1986, Metal Blade)

The skull:
According to Tom Angelripper, the original concept for this cover was a skull in near total darkness, limned only by the sheen of blood running over it. That would have been a pretty awesome cover. But that is not the cover Tom got. Instead he got a wax skull with a tree growing out of the top, a couple of weird, thumbless claw hands, and some stuff that is probably supposed to be blood but which looks more like the goopy icing used to spell out messages on the tops of cakes. It’s a classic cover, to be sure, if not for the best of reasons.

The music:
This entire album was recorded twice, because the first version was deemed unreleasable. Yet, released it was (allegedly due to some kind of mix-up), and if you’re familiar with this album, you probably only know the original recording. But before you start worrying, “You mean, there’s a good sounding version of Obsessed by Cruelty out there and I’ve never heard it?” fret not. The re-recording also sounds like ass. Only the original Steamhammer LP preserves the second recording, and if you’re a fan of the album, it’s probably worth seeking out, if only for the bass solo in “Equinox”. It really must be heard to be believed. The Steamhammer version also includes the track “After the Deluge,” which was promised, but not delivered on the original version. The playing is maybe a little tighter on the second version, too, but really, this was not the work of competent musicians. After all, this is a large part of the appeal of early Sodom, or Hellhammer, or whatever other raw, cult band you can think of. They made it sound like anyone could be in a band (see also: Sex Pistols). I’m a Sodom fan from way back, but for me, the good Sodom doesn’t start until Frank Blackfire joined the band. That said, I was unfairly dismissive of this album for too long. The bad sound and atrocious playing obscured from me the (now fairly obvious) roots of the band that would make Persecution Mania. Yes, Blackfire helped a lot, but he wasn’t solely responsible for Sodom’s sudden greatness come 1986. Any decent guitarist, and any good engineer, might have steered the Sodom of Obsessed by Cruelty to the heights of Persecution Mania, as in fact the excellent live version of the title track on Mortal Way of Live demonstrates. Probably too many terrible thrash and black metal bands have been built around the idea that Obsessed by Cruelty is a great album on its own merits, but certainly the seeds of greatness were there, even if they mostly remained unsprouted.
— Friar Johnsen

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BLACK JACK, Five Pieces of Eight  (1985, Metal For Melbourne)

The skull:
This is the second skull cover I’ve seen this week that includes a hovering pistol. (And that’s a sentence I have never before typed in my life.) But everything’s levitating here: the gun, the sword, the skull itself — although skulls do lots of floating around these parts. The image is made complete by the headband, earring and eyepatch, even if the latter is functionless on a skull. The dude is clearly out for revenge, ready to kill those who glanced that cannonball off his head and took some bone off the top. And check out the extra contrivance of an ear bone, an artistic prosthesis of sorts, so the skull could sport an earring. Muhfugga’s crazy! This skull has all the goods to rape and pillage on the high seas…except a ship.

The music:
Back in 1983 when Running Wild were still singing about evil, hell, and the occult, this band from Melbourne, Australia quietly invented the genre that Running Wild gets credited with founding: pirate metal. Their ’83 demo flys the Jolly Roger right there on the tape cover and features songs like “Crusader’s Revenge” and “Spanish Lover,” back when Rock ‘n’ Rolf’s only knowledge of a “Jolly Roger” was the gay bar down the street in Hamburg. Black Jack released this EP in 1985 and continued the pirate theme. “Man at Arms” is doom-laden and dirgy, with some loping, soaring guitar leads, and the guy’s pretty good, although the song itself meanders. They pick up the pace on “Highwayman’s Inn” (clunky NWOBHM-style stuff) while “Hot Rocket” pairs terrible lyrics with even worse vocals. The playing is sufficient, and the lead guitarist better than that. The energy is high too, but the recording is downright dire. A bit of a shambles, really, and something for only the most indiscriminate lover of metal obscurities. Ultimately its 25 minutes soar by in a fog of uselessness. On a historical basis, you gotta hail Black Jack, the true founders of Pirate Metal! (Or “Damn you Black Jack!” if you think the whole pirate metal thing is totally fucking silly.)
— Friar Wagner

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HARTER ATTACK, Human Hell  (1989, Arena)

The skull:
“Smile!” says the artist, and this skull is very happy to oblige. “Gosh, it’s just such a nice day out there!,” beams the skull, “and I’m really happy that Harter Attack chose me, out of the billions of skulls they could have chosen, to grace their album cover! I understand they’re going to be the next Metallica, or Testament, and I, for one, will help them convey a sense of danger by appearing all skully on their cover! Human hell, maybe, but it’s not hell for a skull! Oh heavens, not at all! It’s wonderful! Even those red splotches of blood and the half-assed way the artist is currently rendering my visage couldn’t get me down! Not on a day like today! It’s just so sunny and nice out there! Harter Attack, Harter Attack…yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay Harter Attack!”

The music:
This is the only album released by New Jersey thrash trio Harter Attack. Not-very-cleverly named after guitarist/vocalist Rich Harter, the band were there back in 1986 releasing demos, so they’re not quite the bandwagon-jumping variety you’d see a lot of in 1989. Members of Riot and Nuclear Assault breezed through their ranks at one point, and the N.A. link runs deep: NukeAss drummer Glenn Evans produced this album, released it on his Arena Records label, and co-wrote a couple songs. Even bassist Dan Lilker got in on the fun, co-credited with a song called (I love this) “Nuclear Attack.” What you get on Human Hell is neither top-tier nor totally vanilla thrash metal. It does its job and does it well, very much in the NY/NJ mold, reminiscent of Nuclear Assault, Anthrax and Overkill, although not as distinctive as those. Think more along the lines of Jersey Dogs and Gothic Slam, but better. The playing is solid all the way through, the production punchy and dry, you get a few truly good riffs occasionally, the vocals are…okay, those are vanilla. This is not a long slog at 34 minutes, but after the first few tracks it falls flat, and that’s Harter Attack’s downfall: they lack any real variation. There just aren’t enough interesting melodic or rhythmic moments to spread over the whole album. They carved out their tiny little niche in thrash history and it’s still better than much of the retro-retro-thrash littering the marketplace at the moment, so let’s maybe give one half-hearted cheer for Harter Attack. “Yay.”
— Friar Wagner

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MARK EDWARDS, Code of Honor (1985, Metal Blade)

The skull:
“Warning: Drums Ahead”

The music:
It’s hard to imagine a less-essential release from 1985 than this four track instrumental EP from the drummer in Steeler. It’s not that it’s bad — it’s perfectly serviceable Shrapnel Records style shred stuff (like the filler tracks from Tony MacAlpine or Vinnie Moore) — but really, what’s the point? At least all those guitar hero albums were full of noodly solos, which hold their own appeal (I guess). It’s not like Code of Honor is a showcase for mindblowing drumming, and Edwards only claims a couple of songwriting credits, to boot. His playing is capable, maybe better than most metal dudes in 1985, but nothing more. He even ropes in another drummer (session dude Greg Bissonette) to play some ludicrously dated electronic drums on two tunes, the second being a cover of Cozy Powell’s “Dance With the Devil,” which is itself basically just a drum-centric rewrite of Hendrix’s “Third Stone from the Sun”. Edwards would later enjoy some hairy success in Lion (and in fact, the only CD release of Code of Honor is a 2-for-1 with Lion’s debut EP), but he peaked artistically on Riot’s Thundersteel; Edward tracked four songs for that album before Bobby Jarzombek joined the band. And actually, the 3rd Stage Alert EP released in 1984 is pretty good, too. So, I suppose you could say that Mark Edwards is the Drummer King of half albums, but that’s really not saying much, is it? And of his half albums, this one is maybe the fourth best? Praise comes no fainter.
— Friar Johnsen

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THORIUM, Cast from Hell (2007, Prutten)

The skull:
A stock-photo skull (with cheesy fangs) is cheaply interwoven with an upside-down star in an image more than little suggestive of the Sisters of Mercy logo. The object of a casting is usually thrown down from its original location, so the title of this EP suggests a sub-hell heretofore unconsidered by mainstream Christian theology. Evidently it’s a black and white plane of inscrutable geometries that can be cheaply photocopied for maximum underground cred. Wicked.

The music:
Thorium is full of dudes from other bands, but the only one worth a damn was Withering Surface. They were one of the very best melodic death metal bands of all time, and I adored even in their slightly embarassing chasing-after-Soilwork groove phase. Sadly, while Withering Surface passed on, Thorium remains. Vocalist Michael Anderson was the main guy in Withering Surface, but let’s be honest: he was never a particularly noteworthy singer, and his low growls here are even less interesting than his higher-pitched rasp he used back when he was all about whorebrides and whatnot. Thorium’s music is fine, a sort of unspectacular Eurodeath that’s not exactly brutal but also isn’t making any effort to smooth over the rough patches. I rarely listen to this sort of thing because it all kind of sounds the same, but if you were into, I dunno, Vader, then maybe you’d enjoy Thorium. I’m not, so I don’t.
— Friar Johnsen

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CALIBRE 38, Calibre 38  (1988, Heavy Discos)

The skull:
Look at this cover. See how dodgy it is. Now imagine that, 11 years later, it was released on CD with a very similar skull cover, yet even more dodgily rendered! (“Dodgily” is not a real word, but it is in the land of Big Dumb Skulls.) We’re sticklers here at BDS, so let’s examine the original: It would appear this skull has some blood left in it from the long-gone fleshly remains, enough to have sprayed “Calibre” on that white piece of driftwood (or chewing gum stick) above the skull. The gun (apparently a .38 caliber pistol) possesses the magical power of levitation. But what’s pulling the trigger? The lousily-drawn skull has no answers; he’s one of the dumbest and clueless specimens we’ve come across, so no point trying to get answers out of him. At least the “artist” added some fire and lightning. You can’t lose with fire, lightning, guns and blood.

The music:
You wanna talk about “dodgy,” you’ve come to the right place. This 37-minute album features 6 over-long songs that sound very much like the product of excited young heavy metal fans with barely-adequate talent hashing together riffs stolen from their favorite NWOBHM obscurities. The vocals are the worst part of this thing: yelping, ridiculous, impossible to appreciate. This is very much in the strictest NWOBHM tradition, complete with its rawness and naivete, although none of these songs make much sense, their arrangements ranging from haphazard to absolutely confused. (Kind of rare that a metal band from Brazil was playing anything but death/thrash/black metal in 1988.) Opener “Futura Passagem” benefits from being the shortest track here, in that they have less time to go astray. So it’s a good choice as opener. Closer “Tempestade” opens with the storm sounds of “Black Sabbath,” so similar that they might be sampled from the original 1970 recording, I’d have to A/B that to make sure (not that I’m actually going to waste anymore time with this thing than I have to). The opening riff in “Tempestade” sounds like they inverted the famous main riff to “Smoke on the Water.” I’m not saying “Tempestade” is a highlight of Calibre 38, I’m just saying stuff about it because there’s something to say. There are no highlights here. Don’t waste your time.
— Friar Wagner

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DEATHWISH, Demon Preacher (1988, GWR)

The skull:
I’m pretty sure this guy is a distant overseas relation of the skull on all those Nuclear Assault albums. The resemblance is uncanny. Also, for a skull that’s all chained up, to a logo no less, he sure looks pleased with himself. Maybe he’s into bondage, in which case we’re probably looking at a very turned-on skull right now. Which is just how he likes it. I’ll concede that he might be a demon, but all he’s preachin’ is the joy to be found in embracing your kinks.

The music:
Most British thrash tends toward Metallica worship, and most of it is pretty mediocre. There were good UK thrash bands (Xentrix first and foremost) but the birthplace of heavy metal has a pretty poor record when it comes to this particular flavor of the stuff. When Slammer and D.A.M. are numbered among your better thrash acts, you know you’re working with a poor scene. And if Deathwish had stopped after one album (the decent but unimpressive At the Edge of Damnation), they would be held in the same low esteem as Cerebral Fix and Anihilated. But, they pressed on and managed to release the rather excellent Demon Preacher before hitting the skids. Demon Preacher, as thrash goes, is a precise, controlled affair, but it’s still fast and bursting with energy, and frontman Jon Van Doorn, with a voice that splits the difference between JD Kimball and Blackie Lawless, brings the hooks in these well written (and skillfully played) tunes. That said, there’s not actually a lot of music here. Excluding a church-bell and powerchord intro and a seemingly eternal outro that puts to use all those classical guitar lessons David Brunt’s mom made him take when he was a kid, AND leaving off the fine-but-needless cover of Black Sabbath’s “Symptom of the Universe,” you’re left with just over 25 minutes of thrash. That’s scant even by 80s LP standards. But, I’d rather 6 good songs than 9 shitty ones, and these six songs are indeed quite cool. Are Deathwish one of the foremost thrash bands of the 80s? Not by a long shot. But, they were pretty damned good, and Demon Preacher is well worth owning if you have any fondness for thrash at the more melodic end of the spectrum.
— Friar Johnsen